


flowers to tame the leviathan

by sleep_pronoia (nap_princess)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Consesual doing the do, F/M, Romance, Sad Ending, Sexual Assault, Smoking, Underage Drinking, Weed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 21:21:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15494946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nap_princess/pseuds/sleep_pronoia
Summary: "Now tell me a secret.""I hate you.""Well, that's not really a secret, is it?"





	flowers to tame the leviathan

**flowers to tame the leviathan**

* * *

– translation provided on the bottom of the page –

* * *

 

"Bad things happen to bad people," Someone had once said to them. And bad things were always happening to them, so they assumed they were bad people, so they acted like bad people.

* * *

They knew each other through mutual friends. And they hated that they knew each other's existence because they're more similar to one another than they would like to admit.

.

.

.

His name was Dean O'Muller because of course a smooth talker like him had to have such a douche name. He was every teenage girl's dream. He had dark hair and piercing grey eyes that changed colour depending on the lighting – sometimes ice blue and sometimes green like grass in Spring and sometimes just grey like rain clouds. He was bilingual (spoke about five languages), wore leather jackets and, smoked cigarettes and weed for fun. He even has scars that make him 'cooler'.

His was pretty like a banquet of yellow carnations because of his handsome face coupled with his dark hair and reflective eyes but he was a monster that breathed smoke and let his victims' hope die after a one-night stand.

.

.

.

.

Chiara Tan is somewhat of a work-in-progress. Perhaps like wine fermenting except the taste gets worse and worse. It started with her hair then her attitude. First, she had dyed the tips of her hair red then a strip of her hair green then she had coloured the hidden parts of her hair purple so that when she ties it up in a ponytail, it's like a surprises buzzcut, then one day she comes to school with her entire head painted ocean blue. Her hair just got drier and drier, and longer and dead.

As for her attitude, she got meaner. So mean that she became the mean girl that had little to no friends and a school full of haters. So mean that people began spreading rumours about her until lies became half-truths and there was no point defending her because no one could tell the difference anyway.

Chiara stuck gum in Kitty's hair? Well, that seems uncharacteristic but she would snip off Kitty's long hair though. Chiara pushed Courtney against her locker? Yup, sounds like her.

She's pretty like a flower with her ever-changing hair but she's like a monster that murders people with her words and drowns them in insecurities.

* * *

"Hey, want to know a secret?" Dean states one day while he, Chiara, Arden and Caleb were eating at a fast food place that had burgers that promises diabetes and had plastic cups that were always sweating.

"What: that you're an ass?" Chiara answers then turns her gaze at Arden and Caleb who were waiting in line, deciding what to eat with their hands intertwined. She focuses on the back of Arden's coiled hair and Caleb's blonde head. Why was she saving the booth spot with Dean of all people?

"No," He shakes his head. "I smoke weed so that I can manage my anger problems."

"Are you serious?"

"Yup,"

"Why are you telling me this?" She asks and stares at him in suspicion.

Dean stares back at her, drinking in her Chinese features; brown almond shaped eyes and tan skin. She didn't look mixed at all.

Then he lets his taunting smile grow wide and says, "To fuck with you." Then adds, "Now tell me a secret."

"I hate you."

"Well, that's not really a secret, is it?"

…

"Chiara, I think you should stop picking fights with Dean. The dude's alright." Caleb says and Chiara just stares back him, Arden's boyfriend. Chiara thinks that's the stupidest thing Caleb has ever said to her.

Chiara doesn't understand. She doesn't understand how society can let stupid people like Caleb run his mouth. She doesn't understand how society can tolerate stupidity but not meanest. They're both toxic traits.

Flicking away blue hair, she says to him, "Caleb, do me a favour and never talk to me about Dean ever again."

Caleb's taken aback by this. "What's he ever done to you?"

"I just don't like him." Chiara states.

"You don't like a lot of people." Caleb points out.

"So?" Chiara answers like it's nothing. And when Caleb doesn't say anything, she says, "You know, you're as dumb as they say you are."

Chiara doesn't understand. She doesn't understand where this cruelty came from because she never had anything against Caleb who was sweet but not the sharpest tool in the shed.

Caleb puckers his lips, deep in thought. He asks almost too innocently, "Who are they?"

"People." Chiara replies swiftly.

Caleb furrows a brow. "You're mean, you know that?"

"Thanks for pointing out the obvious," And Chiara finds the comfort between her and Caleb fade.

…

"Hey," Arden greets Chiara, finger wrapped around her hair as Arden plays with her coiled strand.

"Hey," Chiara says softly under her breath. She feels guilty for being rude to Caleb. Arden reminded her too much of him.

"I heard you and Caleb talking the other day." Arden starts off, not even mad that her friend had insulted her boyfriend. "I think you should give Dean a chance. He's not that bad."

"Not that bad?" Chiara echoes, wanting to laugh.

Arden nods.

"No," Chiara tells Arden. "He has a  _Tinder_ profile just to fuck girls. I hate guys who use girls. You'd never catch me –" She fumbles then catches herself. "He's just not nice. He's horrible."

Then again, who's Chiara to talk? Because Chiara is mean and knows it, snapping her teeth and pushing people aside. In a scenario where she  _could_ be nice, she's got no time to politely tell people to move out of the way when she thinks they've got no business blocking it in the first place.

"If you say so." Arden replies.

And Chiara thinks maybe she should just stop hanging around her 'friends'.

* * *

Chiara lets her messages pile up and doesn't bother to participate in group chats and ignore  _Facebook_  notifications about birthdays because she doesn't talk to any of them and a birthday is just an insignificant day like any other.

* * *

"There's a spider here." Dean tells Chiara one day while they're ditching class and waiting for a miracle to happen. He lights his joint. "I don't do bugs, how do I make it go away?"

"Yell at it." Chiara answers, making him frown, before adding, "Also, spiders aren't bugs. They're arachnids."

"Whatever," He replies, still frowning. "Just kill it for me."

Chiara rolls her brown eyes in return. "Kill it yourself."

He glares hard at her and says to her in Spanish because he wants her to be confuse and he wants to get her angry, "Vete a tomar por culo." (1)

She swears the moment he opened his mouth, she hated his guts. Being around him turned her red; red from embarrassment and red from anger. All types of red. Chiara saw red and, she thinks a part of her wants to be around him and wants to see red because how else is she supposed to express all this pent-up anger?

Chiara wrinkles her nose at the smell of his joint, "Acting like a dick won't make that micro-penis of yours any bigger."

Dean grits his teeth and replies, "Can you just be annoying somewhere else?" because if she doesn't fuck off soon, he might just punch her. The weed wasn't working, he still isn't happy.

"Fine," She replies, dusts off the grass from her jeans and wrinkles her nose once again. "Enjoy your time with the spider."

* * *

"Bitch," Chiara heard someone call her one day in the hall.

She turns, not even phased and tells the person, "I've been called worse by better."

They don't even know her.

...

Dean feels a firm grab on his ass while he's walking to class; a rare occasion really – the class attending, not the ass grabbing. He whips around to see who the fuck just touched him. It's a girl that looks too bookish to be deemed guilty of such an act.

He sends a look at the girl and her friend because he doesn't want to be touched that way. He's not a piece of meat. He's a person. Dean is  _a person_.

But his hard gaze only makes the girls giggle. He's disgusted.

"I tapped the booty." The one in glasses says, smiling too wide for her own good.

"Lucky," Her friend whispered.

Dean decides to escape to the solitude of smoking until his lungs hurt and until healthy red is stain black with nicotine.

...

While people of the opposite sex find him hot and sexy and sometimes put him on a pedestal, Chiara doesn't. She labels him lesser than all of that. He is the gum at the bottom of her boot, he is a waste of space. Maybe even less than nothing to her. Nevertheless, she treats him as close to a real person as he sees himself. A worthless piece of shit but still a person.

Chiara Tan is the only girl that's ever treated him that way and he thinks he's okay with it.

* * *

"Do you believe them?" Caleb asks after attempting to finish up his Math homework. Eraser dust is everywhere and, honestly, there are more doodles scribbled in his notebook than equations.

"Believe what?" Dean asks back and then wonders why Caleb hangs out with him. Caleb's nice. Too nice to be hanging out with Dean. Caleb's probably got a hundred and one other friends to chill with. Friends who are better people than him.

"The rumours about Chiara."

"Why should I care about Tan?"

Caleb pinches the hem of his shirt. "I don't know. It's just, I've never seen her talk to any boy aside from me and you –"

"If you count insulting each other talking then sure," Dean intervenes but is ignored.

"– but people always say she sleeps around and it doesn't make sense." Caleb finishes.

Dean presses his mouth into a firm line. He tells the blonde, "Finish your homework."

* * *

They're at some random person's party when it happened. A sticky hand grabs her elbow before the smell of liquor is rudely shoved up her nose. A douche-y looking guy asks, "What are you doin' tonight?"

Chiara stares angrily, pulling her elbow away. She squares her shoulders, now guarded. She's ready to put up a front, a facade of sorts. She's ready to tear this guy to shreds.

"Answer me, babe." He says.

"I'm not your babe." Because she isn't and he's just a drunk stranger who's definitely going to contract STDs with that type of behaviour. She's one millisecond from saying venomous things before someone else comes into the picture.

Dean snakes an arm protectively around Chiara's waist the same time the guy repeats, "What are you doin' tonight?"

"Not you," Dean answers for Chiara and smiles his most threatening smile. It's enough to send the guy glowing red from embarrassment. Dean tells him, "Fuck off,"

And he does. When the douche is gone, Chiara whips around and clicks her tongue.

"What do you want?" Chiara snaps at Dean because she didn't have the opportunity to snap at that other guy who deserves her anger more than him.

Dean leans in and says over the booming music, "Arden's looking for you."

"I didn't ask what Arden wanted." She presses her glossed lips together. It's not exactly a frown, just a firm razor-sharp line. "I asked what  _you_ want."

"Nothing." He answers, there's a flicker of green in his eyes. He looks like he's about to fly off the handle if he stops talking, like he needs a distraction to not get angry.

"No, seriously. Tell me what you want."

"Nothing," Dean repeats himself.

But Chiara knows it's a lie because Arden was not looking for her. Arden wasn't at the party, she was at a sleepover tonight and Chiara knows it because Arden asked if Chiara would have liked to join and she said 'no'. She said 'no' because she doesn't fit in sleepovers where everyone talked about boys and nice feelings.

Then Dean asks her, just so he could get her off his back, "What do  _you_  want?"

"I –" Chiara sputters, she's so angry that she can't think straight. "I want to – to –"

She can't believe he's asking her that as if he could ever help her in any way. As if Dean could make her feel anything other than anger.

"– Fuck you!" She curses instead, a frown on her face.

She's trying to act mean again. She's trying to get him mad. A familiarity, a normality between the two. She doesn't want him to comfort her, she wants him to fight her. But he conveys it all wrong. He does the one thing he thinks he'll ever be good at.  _Fucking_. Either by fucking shit up or just fucking people in general.

Dean blinks before stating, "As you wish."

She doesn't even get a chance to answer before he kisses her at the party, in a public area, like it's nothing. Like they don't hate each other.

…

"Have you had sex before?" He asks as he leaves kisses down her neck. Kisses he didn't know why he was giving and kisses he didn't know why she was taking.

"Twice," She answers.

"Twice, really? That's sad."

"Shut up!" Chiara snaps like her usual self, this makes his smile just a little bit, it makes kissing her harder. "The first time was so I'd get it out of the way but then it sucked and I told the dude who did it with me that he sucked."

"Jimmy, right? Wasn't he the same guy who started all those shamings about you? He spread all those rumours about you, didn't he? I never liked him, he thought just because he wore sweater-vests and glasses then it meant he wasn't a fuckboy but he obviously was."

Dean feels her clench her jaw at this, Chiara ignores his questions and continues speaking, "The second time – about a year later, I tried it again to see if it was the sex that sucked or just me."

"Which was it?" Dean asks though he really should have learned to hold his tongue after the first round of questions.

"I don't know. Both?" Chiara asks like Dean might have the have an answer to such a thing then she decides, "Both."

"Well, I can change one of those things tonight." Dean states.

"Which one?"

"I don't know." Dean repeats Chiara's answer after combing back her faded blue hair. "But definitely not both."

She only has enough time to reflect on how blue his eyes looked before she answers him with a kiss. Blue like her hair, blue like sadness. They both felt blue, she knows it.

…

He doesn't know what came over him when he decided to untangle his dying arm from under her to only run his fingers through her hair. It wasn't soft. It was dry. Dry from all the bleach and dry from all the dyeing experiments.

Dean's seen her with so many different coloured hair that sometimes, he doesn't even recognize her until she's standing in front of him with that knowing smirk and sass.

Regardless, he lets himself play with Chiara's dry,  _dry_  hair and wonders how she can sleep so soundly when just yesterday, a few hours ago (?), she said she hated him and couldn't stand his guts.

Chiara rolls over and looks at him in confusion. For a moment, Dean thinks she's going to use that sharp tongue of hers. But instead, she just blinks tiredly and reaches over to stroke his cheek, just above his scar.

"可爱," (2) She says to him and he understands. He understands because he knows five different languages but he wished he didn't. He really did. He wished he was left in the dark.

Dean's got the bright idea to have a chat with Chiara before she falls back asleep, snoring like a delicate chainsaw. He wants to ask her 'why'.  _Why call me such a thing?_

This is the most innocent thing he's ever heard her say and he suddenly wants to be angry at her. Because she can't just turn around and suddenly act nice around him. She can't just treat him this way, like he deserves it. Like he deserves goodness in the world.

He's been treated badly all his life. He convinces himself he must have done something bad to deserve all these bad things. He's a bad person. He doesn't get to have niceness.

He wants to push her off the bed, that would get her snapping. That would balance out his world again.

He was not 'cute'. He doesn't look innocent. He had a scar under his eye from when he had gotten punched by an older kid at the playground and he had a scar on his leg after being pushed down a dirt path and he had a scar on his heart from breaking hearts.

* * *

"Tan," Dean addresses his arch-nemesis after he saw Chiara snapping at a boy who bumped into her.

"O'Muller," Chiara says from a distant memory of his. Back then when she was in the middle of hair experimenting, before she dyed her full head bright colours but after she had decided to move on from just having streaks in her hair. The bottom of her hair was purple now. It reminded him of grape jelly.

"You shouldn't act so harsh." He reminds her. "No boy will talk to you."

She tugs on a purple lock and twirls it. "I don't want to talk to boys."

"You're talking to me now."

"You're not a boy. You're barely even a person."

And Dean knows Chiara is only saying this to get under his skin but he can't fathom the idea that she's spot on for someone who can't tolerate breathing the same air as him.

…

"I hate it when people spread rumours about me sleeping with guys." She says to him after another night where they're tangled in bed sheets.

It's strange to Dean because he's always been a one-night stand kind of guy.

"You're sleeping with me now." Dean says and he can picture this moment as movie-script written as possible with the sunlight beaming down on him and a cigarette dangling from his mouth.

"You're different." She answers. "No one would ever believe we've been fucking around."

"Thanks," Dean replies though there's no hint of amusement. Did she forget about that night at the party that started all of  _this_? He kissed her in a room filled with people. It started this – this fucking? He doesn't know what to call it ... whatever this was – is? "But yeah, I get you on the rumour thing."

"I don't think you do."

"Jimmy was the one behind it, right?"

"Yeah but –" Chiara voices, a small noise. "Wanna know a secret?"

And suddenly Dean remembers the smell of grease and the luxury of sitting in a booth for lunch. "Sure."

"Being around boys make me anxious. Like, I'm scared of them. That's why I act mean, it's to make them go away. I can't be with boys, I can't talk to them. I still find them attractive but I'm also – it's stupid."

"You're with me now." He reminds again. It looks like Chiara forgot a lot of things. Dean asks her, "What about Caleb?"

"Caleb's different too. I'm not afraid of boys if they're in a relationship. I'm afraid of them when they're single because they'll end up flirting with me and not getting the message of 'no'. If they're in love with someone else then they won't just see me as just something to touch. They might see me as a person; human."

Dean finds Chiara's logic scary. Scary because love is the only thing protecting her from disgusting hands. "Your fear … how did this happen?"

Chiara turns to him and stares. "One time … One time I told a guy I didn't want anything to do with him because I said I liked someone else but he still kissed me. And when I slapped him, he made rumours about me doing more things with him. It got annoying, then I went to Jimmy and you know how that turned out. It's so shit to be honest … I couldn't see – I couldn't see guys the same way after that."

Dean swears his vision clouds red. He's been there. If anyone asked, he honestly wouldn't have an answer to how he had the title of being a womanizer to begin with. He just rolled with it after the rumours got out of control. "Bitches. Bitches, all of them."

Chiara shrugs.

"Do you have someone you like then?" Dean asks after a moment.

"I don't know. It's complicated, girls hate me and I kinda hate boys. But I also think I'd fall for anyone who's nice to me. But no one ever is so I'm just …" Chiara starts explaining then trails off. This is the most open she's ever been with anyone. "What about you? You know how shitty I am. You use girls all the time."

"I use them because they use me." Dean justifies. "They don't see me as human either. Why should it be a one-way street if I can turn it around and bite back?"

"That's not nice." Chiara says like she can declare such a thing.

He looks at her like she has soaps for brains, a stone cold stare. His eyes looked too dead, too grey, like a gargoyle's. "Where's all your snark gone? We're not nice. You shouldn't forget that."

Then Chiara realizes what's just happened. They've just used each other. They've done exactly what they said they hated the most. They weren't human, they were trash. Scums. They've never felt more pathetic, like flowers plucked to die, like dying flowers presented to an angry sea monster who's going to drown them no matter what.

Chiara is quiet until she decides to distract him with their lame attempts of expressing their feelings. "It's too hot," She says sleepily. "I can't sleep."

"Me too."

* * *

Translation

(1) Vete a tomar por culo = Go get fucked in the ass

(2) 可爱 = Cute

* * *

**end**

**Author's Note:**

> idk, it's just a story about a couple of troubled kids.
> 
> I wanted to be deep about this but I think it's more of just the poorly thought idea that we can fix broken people. Except in this scenario no one is really fixing anyone. No one is kind, they're both just 'bad people' and that they think they deserve bad things.
> 
> I want to expand the idea but I've got nothing.
> 
> – 10 October 2017


End file.
